Partners Almanac
by HeartEyes4Mariska
Summary: Just a little ditty that I have been toiling away on - not entirely sure where it's headed. Spoilers: So far up to and including Season 6. - Pairing is E/O - - If we could imagine some of the in-between moments, over the years, what would they look like? Partners Almanac attempts to answer some of those questions.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have been working away at this for a bit now. I'm liking it, so far, but not entirely sure yet where it's going (if anywhere in particular). That having been said, let me know if you guys enjoy it. For anyone wondering, yes – I am still working on Equinox, I promise. Sorry it's slow. I just don't want to fuck it up, and it's gotten to an important point. If you're patient, it will come! If you read, please review. Thanks! **

**Rating: T, so far, but will eventually change. **

**Spoilers: Payback, A Single Life, Wanderlust, Stalked, Closure, Taken **

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never were. Money is generally not mine either, so don't sue me. **

**Partners Almanac **

**_May, 199_****8 **

It was a slow, rainy mid-day in Sex Crimes – the patter of raindrops on the one-six's windows, and the sharp, strong coffee in his stained mug were the only things keeping Detective Elliot Stabler grounded in the world.

"I hear the new partner they found you is supposed to show up today," Munch called from a nearby desk.

Elliot glanced across from his seat, to the empty desk where his most recent partner, Alphonse, had sat. "Yeah, that's what they tell me," he nodded, non-committal. The older Alphonse had finally retired, high-tailing it to Florida and the endless expanses of golf courses there.

He wasn't much for golf, himself, but if there was anything he was even less a fan of, it was change. He had tried convincing Cragen to let him continue on as a lone wolf, or the squad swing-man, but the Captain wasn't having it. Soon, El would have to start over again: getting to know a partner, developing a working rapport, building a relationship. Just thinking about it made him tired. Sex Crimes had a notorious turnover rate, due to its nature, so the real job was probably resigning himself to having to do this kind of relationship work often.

Because who would ever choose to stay?

The sound of footsteps drew him back to the room from his thoughts. Looking up, he saw a brunette, shaking out an umbrella in the doorway to the bullpen. Raindrops on her heavy coat caught the light as she stepped inside, finger-combing her shoulder-length dark hair. Elliot got to his feet, taken with her presence. At the sound of his chair rolling backwards, the woman stilled her hands and looked directly at him.

Her eyes were as dark as her hair. A shock of energy thrummed through him.

Elliot came around the desk to meet her, extending a hand. "I'm Detective Elliot Stabler." Every male eye in the room was on her, and he found himself compelled to stand close, blocking their view. "Can I take your coat?"

"Uh . . . sure," she smiled, shrugging out of the damp garment. Her voice was deeper than he had expected, with a hint of a 'don't fuck with me,' attitude that impressed him.

He hung her coat, motioning for her to take a seat in the chair beside his desk. El sat back in his own, taking up a pen and a pad of paper. Her umbrella was folded, slowly dripping a puddle beside his desk, near her feet. "How about we start with your name?" he smiled.

"Oh - I'm Olivia," she said, with a hint of a chuckle.

"Olivia," he echoed, glancing at her tidy, business casual attire and petite figure. He imagined that maybe she sold make-up, or high-end jewelry. "How can I help you today?"

She raised an eyebrow, obviously confused. "What?"

"It's okay," Elliot assured her, "whatever happened, it wasn't your fault. I'm here to help you."

Her dark brows furrowed, her mouth turned down. "I'm . . . "

"Detective Benson!" Captain Cragen's voice boomed from behind them. "You made it!" He came to a stop alongside Elliot's shoulder, eyeing Olivia in the chair. "And you two have already met – even better."

"Hello, Captain," Olivia smiled.

Elliot cleared his throat and sat up straighter, discarding his pen.

"Elliot, Olivia's going to be your new partner," Cragen announced. "She's spent five years with Peter Griffin, so you've got a lot to live up to," he ribbed.

"Olivia," El nodded, avoiding her eyes, which were sparkling with amusement. "Good to meet you."

"Likewise," she replied, and he could hear the grin in her voice. "I'm looking forward to it, Stabler."

_**August, 1998 **_

It had been three years since he'd worked with a woman, and Elliot wasn't so sure, at first, that going down that road again was the best idea. He had a reputation as a hot-headed, shoot-first-and-ask-later cop. It had a tendency to keep other cops at a distance, and once Alphonse had headed off into his Golden Years, El sort of enjoyed being alone.

But Olivia was a great detective. It was a lesson he learned very early on, one that continued to impress him as their first months passed. Her instincts were sharp, always on point, and she was quick on her feet in the field. Elliot was relieved to realize that he didn't need to babysit or lead her.

He looked up as she pushed back from her desk, stretching her arms behind her head. "That's it," she declared, "for today, anyway. How about you?"

"Yeah, I'm just about done," El nodded. "Didj'you want a drive home?"

"Actually, I was thinking of stopping for a drink beforehand. You're welcome to join me," she offered, rifling through her purse.

"Works for me." He shuffled the papers on his desk together, and got to his feet.

El took her to a cop bar near the 16th Precinct that she had never seen, and they found an empty booth in the back, with a wooden tabletop, stained deep into the grain from years of abuse. The cracked leather seats they dropped into were bleeding tufts of stuffing. Elliot's bottle of beer was cold enough that beads of condensation were forming on its glass. Olivia sighed as she settled into the seat, her hand wrapped around a Screwdriver topped with a cherry. He had pictured her drinking wine, or bottled coolers, not hard liquor – she was decidedly difficult to predict, this new partner.

"Ugh," she groaned, plucking at her shirt, "I like the Summer, but this past week has been too much for me." Absently, she unbuttoned a couple of the shirt's buttons, until her cleavage was visible at the top of the tank top underneath.

El took a long, cool drink of his beer and swallowed hard. "So, Benson –"

She laughed. "Jesus. Just call me Olivia – or better yet, Liv."

"You grow up in the city?"

She nodded. "Manhattan born and raised."

"You got family here?"

"Just my mother. She's retired."

"Oh yeah? From what?"

"She was an English professor."

"Huh. No cops in the family?" he mused.

"Just me."

Elliot eyed her, tipping back his beer, curious about what had closed her off and made her so cautious. "Did you like working with Peter Griffin?"

"He's a good cop. Definitely had my back," she replied. "But I'd had my eye on Sex Crimes for a long time, so it was an amicable parting. What happened to your partner?"

"Alfie?" Elliot grinned into his beer bottle. "The jerk retired. He's gone to Florida to putt golf balls into the ocean."

Liv chuckled, popping the cherry from her glass into her mouth. "No other partners?"

"What can I say?" he smirked, "I'm pretty loyal."

"Who trained you?"

"Jo Marlow."

Liv shook her head, indicating she didn't recognize the name. "Sorry," she shrugged, "I'm just not as interesting as you, Stabler." She plucked the cherry stem from her mouth, placing it on the tabletop. It was tied in a knot. "I'm not an ex-Marine, and I'm not happily married with four kids. But – we _did_ both volunteer for a unit that nobody else usually wants to work." Liv slid from the booth. "I gotta run to the ladies room."

He watched her until she disappeared around the corner, then turned his gaze back to the cherry stem. He doubted very much that she wasn't interesting.

_**September, 1998 **_

They were magic in the Interrogation Room. Everyone, including Elliot, walked away surprised. It came so effortlessly – playing off each other, trading roles, hatching schemes to trick the perps. They were smooth, as if practiced, and it gave him a rush. It was powerful, new, something he had never had with a partner before. He began walking out of the box like a fox leaving a henhouse. It was ridiculous, but addictive.

Which, naturally, made the first time it fell flat all the more hurtful.

"Sonofabitch!" Liv came flying out of the box, fuming, hands on hips.

Elliot followed, surprised by her defeat. "Hey! Where're you goin'? We almost had 'im!"

"Bullshit, El! He's laughing at us," she shouted, waving her hand at the two-way window.

"Relax, relax - c'mere." He laid a heavy hand on her shoulder and steered her out a back entrance. The day was hazy, the pavement hard and warm under their tired feet. "Why is he getting to you?"

"He raped Georgia Haynes, and she has to live with that for the rest of her life, every time she looks into the eyes of that baby!" Olivia turned away from him, crossing her arms. She was heaving out exhales, and he watched her shoulders moving up and down.

"Ok? We've seen this before; it happens. So what's different?"

Taking a deep breath, she spoke without turning around. "You know how you asked about my family?" There was a pause, but El didn't speak. "My father . . . was a rapist, Elliot. I was the result of my mother's attack."

Thick silence fell all around them in the alley, until his pulse receded from his ears and he acknowledged traffic, and the shouts of people on the streets. "I'm sorry, Olivia."

"Forget it. Look – only Cragen knows, so keep it between us, ok?"

"Of course."

"I don't want your pity," she warned. "I just thought you might get it, if you knew."

"Hey, I don't pity you," he told her. "You impress me too damn much for that." He watched the temper blow out as the compliment washed over her. "Now let's go get this prick, alright?"

Elliot swung the door open and held it for her, letting her lead the way.

_**December, 1998 **_

"Is it true that you volunteered to work Christmas?" Elliot leaned in over Liv's shoulder as she sat at her desk, speaking conspiratorially next to her ear.

"Why not?" she shrugged. "It's no big deal, El."

"You don't spend it with your mother?"

Olivia chuckled. "Oh, yeah. We exchange perfunctory gifts and then I babysit her while she drinks the entire bottle of wine. That doesn't require an entire day, though."

He frowned. "Oh. Well . . . why don't you come over to our place, then? There's plenty of food to go around, and Kathy's parents aren't so bad."

"Look, Elliot – I appreciate the concern, but Christmas is a family holiday, and the cheese stands alone. I'll be alright. The day usually goes quick, anyway."

He conceded, but reluctantly, returning to his desk. His thoughts churned, trying to devise a solution to such an unacceptable problem.

/

Five days before Christmas Day, it came to him. "Liv," he announced across the desk, "I want you to take Christmas off."

She groaned. "Elll, we've been over this!"

"No, no hear me out. Take Christmas Day off; I want to meet your mother."

"Did you – are you out of your mind?"

"Not at all. I'll stay home in the morning, watch the kids open presents, then I'll come by your mother's for a . . . a Christmas brunch. Then I can be back to my place in time for dinner, and you can do your thing with your mom."

For a moment, he could tell that she was touched, that he had gone out if his way to think of a plan that would work. But then her dark eyes clouded again. "No, Elliot," she shook her head, "you don't get enough time with your kids as it is, and my mother sees me plenty."

"Please," he insisted, leaning forward in the chair. "I'd really like to do this."

Liv eyed him with half-hearted annoyance for a few moments longer, then threw up her hands. "Alright. Okay! If you want to waste part of your time off on meeting a well-read drunk, I'll get Cragen to change my schedule."

"Good. Great!" he grinned. "I can't wait."

/

December 25th dawned cold, but bright, lacing even the dirty city snow with sun sparkles if you dared to look. Elliot left his kids, engrossed in their new toys, to pick up Olivia by 11am. They drove to Serena's as he told her about the kids' gifts and his yearly tie that the kids presented him with. Liv listened, smiling politely, but fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

The woman who answered the door seemed, to Elliot, an artifact of a time gone by. She was worn about the edges, maybe even a bit dusty, but underneath, her elegance was still there. It was not hard to see where Olivia had gotten her killer looks from. Somewhere, beneath makeup that failed to hide the circles and map of tragedies on Serena's face, there was a stubborn, intelligent professor that wouldn't have had any trouble captivating a classroom.

"Mrs. Benson," he smiled, and kissed her hand, "the pleasure is mine, to finally meet you."

"_Miz_ Benson," she corrected, drawing her hand back in suspicion. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Likewise."

"Liar," she said calmly. "Olivia hates to talk about herself."

"Mother," Liv scolded as they followed Serena inside, deeper into the deliberate shadows that the older woman kept in the home.

"No, it's ok," El laughed. "You got me. Maybe you can tell me about yourself, Serena."

In the kitchen, she picked up a glass of what looked like vodka and lime, her long fingers hugging the glass like a lover. "Mm. We'll see."

"Smells good," El praised.

"Yes, well, lucky for you a turkey dinner is the one dish I can't fuck up, sober or otherwise," Serena drawled.

Sighing, Olivia shot Elliot a look that was the clearest, _Don't say I didn't warn you_ that he had ever seen.

/

After Elliot had made a polite escape, Olivia joined her mother in the kitchen, stacking and washing dishes. Her partner was a diplomatic, Catholic gentleman when he needed to be, and had managed to get onto her mother's good side, after all.

"My, my, my!" Serena exclaimed, watching her current drink swirl in her glass. "He is a handsome one, that new partner of yours. Certainly nicer than five years of going in to work with Peter Griffin."

"Elliot's married, mother. Four kids, remember?"

"When has marriage ever stopped a cop from having some on the side?" she scoffed.

"It's not the 50s anymore."

"Men are the same, regardless of the decade," Serena murmured.

Olivia rolled her eyes and blew an errant lock of hair from her forehead. "I'm finally in the department that I wanted. I'm not about to mess it up – certainly not for a man."

"It's beyond me why you want to deal with sex crimes day in and day out," her mother said. "And don't dare say it's about me! It's your life to live. I've dealt with my demons."

Liv watched her mother drain her glass. _Yeah_, she thought, _sure you have, mom_.

_**April, 1999 **_

"Listen up, folks!"

The bullpen quieted, turning toward Cragen. With him, in the middle of the room, stood a new detective that none of them recognized. He looked younger than he probably was, and cocky as hell.

"This is Detective Brian Cassidy," the Captain announced. "Munch, he's going to be your partner from now on – "

"Jealous'a watchin' me work alone, Captain?"

"No, John, 1-PP was concerned you were a liability without someone to keep you in line," Cragen returned. He turned back to Cassidy. "Go easy on him."

Chuckling, Cassidy dropped a box onto the desk across from Munch's and began pulling out his belongings. "How's the coffee around here?" he asked his new partner.

"It's crap, kid."

Cassidy smirked. "Wouldn't have it any other way. "

Munch rolled his head on his neck toward Olivia, giving her a pained look. Following Munch's gaze, Cassidy seemed to notice the brunette for the first time. Smiling brightly, he walked to her desk, holding his hand out to shake hers.

"Hey. Cassidy," he said, shaking her hand enthusiastically.

"Olivia Benson," she replied, trying not to giggle at Elliot, who crossed him arms and leaned back in his chair.

"Pleasure."

"Where were you before Sex Crimes, Cassidy?" she asked.

"I was trained at the 4-1. Thought I'd volunteer here first, gimme a chance to decide where I wanna go permanently." There was an awkward pause, as Cassidy waited for Liv to say more. When he realized that nothing else was coming, he returned to his box at the desk.

Stabler sat up, looking back to his paperwork. "I give him six weeks," he said quietly. Across the desk, Liv grinned.

_**September, 1999 **_

Another day, another opportunity to be disappointed by humanity. Olivia turned from the less-than-helpful witness who was walking away, only to be approached by a couple.

"Excuse me, how long does that girl's apartment stay a crime scene?"

"Why?"

"We're next on the list for a one-bedroom," the man replied.

Elliot had joined them on the sidewalk in front of the building, and now he eyed the man. "What's your name?"

"Jason Cargill."

"Mr. Cargill, I'm with the real estate board," Stabler told him, "you're now off the list."

With a scowl, the couple moved off.

"Half of them admitted they couldn't tell their neighbors from the perp," Liv told him in frustration.

"Could you?"

"Could I what?"

"Tell your neighbors apart?"

"Why, because I live here? I'm never home. I'm always with _you_."

"And people say the suburbs are anonymous," he smirked.

"Oh, now Queens is a suburb? Since when?"

"Since we got a little space, some trees, grass to mow . . . "

She laughed openly. "Yeah - I got a regular 8x10 of you, mowing the lawn."

"I do . . . sometimes."

"Admit it, Kathy does all the housework 'cause you're never there!"

"Okay, I admit it, Kathy's the man of the house," El shrugged.

"Exactly."

"Till Dickie's old enough. You're lucky, you got nothing to worry about. Definitely got no lawn to mow," he teased.

"Yeah, I'm a regular monk," Olivia snorted.

"Monkette." Elliot leaned on the driver's side door that he'd opened, looking at her.

Of course, in a year of working with her, he had looked at her every day. He had looked at her when he was pleased by her clever work, looked at her in frustration when the job was wearing them down, or with sympathy when he knew that she'd spent a long night with her mother. But lately, he had caught himself looking at her in more than those ways – even caught himself gazing at her, when she wasn't paying complete attention.

Now, he was caught in the act. He held the look just a beat or two too long.

"What?" Liv asked him.

His mouth ran dry. He swallowed. "Nothing," he managed.

But he was beginning to worry that 'nothing,' was _something_.

_**October, 1999 **_

"The mom had a revolving door of boyfriends. Virginia learned at an early age that men were just a commodity. That, and as arcane as it sounds, there is some truth to the notion that every girl wants to marry her father."

Elliot hurried to keep up with Liv's irritated pace "Most of them outgrow it."

"When a father is absent, it is not unusual for a younger girl to be attracted to an older man."

It surprised him, although he supposed it shouldn't have. "That's what this is about?"

"It happens a lot more than you think," she replied indignantly.

"How old were you?"

"Almost 17."

Elliot struggled to picture his partner at that age. He dredged up an image of a mouthy, lonely brunette. "And he was?"

"Older than 17," Liv smirked, pausing deliberately. "About as old as I am now. And I'll tell you something, I couldn't have loved him more."

She rarely spoke about her life before the Academy, but Elliot couldn't swallow his discomfort on the topic, even as an effort to keep her talking. "I don't care how you look at it, it's an unequal relationship. Being in love, that does not absolve an affair."

"I'm not saying that love is ever an excuse. I'm saying that soul mates come in all shapes and sizes and ages."

"Soul mates? Come on, Olivia."

"Elliot, she didn't remember the position of the body. Have you ever seen that?" she demanded, but he still wouldn't give. "What are you trying to protect in her?"

"Her. I'm trying to protect _her_," he snapped.

"No, you're trying to protect your daughter, and you can't."

His eyes flared with anger, unused to her mixing his family with their work. "Don't bring her into this."

Liv held her ground, motioning a hand in the direction they had been walking. "Well, just wait and see," she huffed. "I'm right, and I'll let Virginia tell you, herself."

**_November_**, **_1999 _**

Olivia's morning routine consisted of running late, not eating enough breakfast, and grabbing coffee before making it to the office. She was unused to her routine being interrupted by a knock at her door.

"Who is it?"

"Elliot." She opened the door to his lopsided grin. "One of your neighbors let me in. I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd give you a lift."

"Elliot, what's going on? Last night Munch offered to give me a lift home."

"Munch did that?"

"Yeah, that's not like him, is it? Then this morning you're offering to drive me to work. 'In the neighborhood?' "

"I was."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You have a sedan with you?"

"Yep."

"Which means that you drove all the way uptown from the Queensboro Bridge, dropped off the car, picked up the sedan, turned around, all the way back downtown to get here." She smirked. "That's a lot of neighborhood, my friend."

Elliot stepped out of the doorway and into the apartment. "Stop acting like a cop," he chided.

"That's what Richard White would like me to do. Look, I appreciate everyone's concern. But we don't know that White's coming for me. He may have gone out of town."

"Okay," El nodded, unconvinced.

"I sure as hell wouldn't drive to Queens to save your ass," she grinned.

"Yeah, you would," he told her, grabbing her glass of juice from the counter and taking a drink. It was his first time seeing her at the top of the morning, fresh and showered, before the office's fluorescent lights colored her skin. He admired her a moment, without her catching him.

"That's only because you have a wife and kids," she relented.

"Yeah," he laughed. It was good, and it was easy. He felt his smile all the way to his toes, just as his phone rang.

_**January**_, _**2000 **_

Another Christmas Day with her mother had come and gone, with New Year's Eve right on its heels. Harboring no fear of the coming millennium, Olivia chose to go out for a change. True to form, however, she went somewhere familiar: Maloney's. Just her and a few old, ragged cops, drinking in another year.

That was, until Cassidy showed up.

He was the only guy in the place under 50 by the time it was midnight, and Liv had enough drinks in her that she let him convince her to kiss him at the countdown. It had been long enough for her that just the thrill of contact - that wasn't with a victim or Elliot – shut down her decision-making center. For all she knew, it was 1989 again, and all she wanted was a little fun.

By the time she woke to her beeper the next morning, she didn't even remember how they had gotten to Cassidy's place. Everything was a blur, of lips, of hands, of hips and the glide of skin. But she recognized the look on Brian's face, the tone of his voice as she hurried to dress.

And she remembered, then, why she didn't do nights like this anymore.

Somehow, Elliot's knowing was worse.

"How long have you been sleeping with Cassidy?"

"Uh, I'm not." The hot creep of her embarrassment at the base of her neck surprised and intrigued her.

"Your stomach just dropped two floors, Olivia. The unconscious doesn't lie."

"I'm not lying." Liv sighed and turned to him. "Not much."

"Um-hmm."

"Is it that obvious?"

"I'm your partner. For better or worse. Everybody knows too much about everybody else in this office, anyway."

He was not father, or husband, or confessor, yet she felt caught out in a way she couldn't recognize. "I broke a rule, Elliot - a personal one, and now he wants to see me again."

"Can you blame him?"

It was as close as he'd ever come to calling her attractive, out loud, and they both knew that personal rules had exceptions. _For_ _better_ _or_ _worse_. Perhaps these were the only love vows they would ever take together.

"I can't do it right now. I didn't mean for this - " she sighed, angry with herself, "I mean, I guess you never do."

"Sometimes you do," he said lowly. He took a pause that was swollen with wordless meaning between them. "Be nice to him, maybe even over-nice. He'll be cold, but he'll get over it. It happens."

"Really?"

"Really. Cragen's waiting for us."

_I_ _now_ _pronounce_ _you_ _partners_ _for_ _life_.

**_September_**, _**2000 **_

The bounce of raindrops off of her umbrella had Olivia entranced. It appropriately darkened the fresh earth and the headstone that she'd paid to have installed. Even the caress of cool Fall air against her hands and neck was befitting.

Serena had been cremated, so the plot need only be four feet wide by four feet deep, but it still seemed cavernous to Liv. It was a lightless place, where her only parent and her biggest denigrator would be laid to rest, as if history could be planted - covered over in Death's garden.

Olivia let out a deep, slow breath and shuffled her feet. She tried to pay attention to the minister that the funeral home had sent over to the gravesite. Neither she, nor her mother had ever been particularly religious, but the thought of putting her mother in the ground without a few words seemed like too much silence.

"Hello, Liv."

Before she'd heard him, she was aware of his body heat, shifting the damp cold away from them. He had come from work, she could tell, and in the hand that wasn't holding his own umbrella, there was a bouquet of flowers.

"Hey, El," she said softly.

"I'm sorry about Serena," he told her. "I liked her."

From him, it wasn't a lie, and so she allowed herself to be grateful that he had said it. "Thanks." Elliot held out the flowers – yellow roses, interspersed with colorful hyacinths – and she took them into her own free hand, which ached with the chill.

They stood, side by side, as the minister finished speaking, and the cemetery attendant began to fill in the small plot. The funeral had been well-attended, but Olivia had insisted on a private burial, knowing her mother would have wanted her to herself, for this one last time. When the dirt had been shovelled, and the attendant silently nodded, stepping off into the rain, Liv knelt and laid the flowers at the stone.

"'She walks in beauty like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies,'" Elliot read the inscription aloud.

"It's Byron," she said, with a sad smile, "her favorite." Finally, she broke, her face contorting into a tight frown as her eyes welled up.

At the first shake of her shoulders, Elliot leaned in, offering her his hand up. Liv took it, despite her embarrassment, and crowded under his umbrella, putting her head to his shoulder.

"It's alright, Liv," he whispered.

"No . . . "

"It is. It will be."

"No," she said, more forcefully. She lifted her head, meeting his eyes. "You don't understand. I loved - _love_ my mother, but she was . . . you know, my childhood, and – "

"I know," Elliot nodded.

"I feel – " her voice broke.

"You feel free."

Olivia nodded with relief, and the sound of the rain rushed back in.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed/followed, favorited! It is always a joy!**

**Rating: Still T, this time for sexual references, but no full-blown sex. **

**Spoilers: Lowdown, Doubt, Weak, Intoxicated**

**Disclaimer: Definitely, for sure, completely, 100% positively not mine.**

**Partners Almanac:** II

**February 16-17, 2003 **

"Weather's comin'," Munch prophesied, looking out the precinct window as he shrugged into his jacket.

"Is that so, Grandpa?" Elliot tested, pushing away from his desk and coming to look for himself.

Munch eyed his colleague from over the tops of his glasses. "Joke now, sonny, but you'll know it when Father Time comes after you."

El smirked without turning his head, but it slipped from his face just as quickly. The older man was right – there was weather coming. It was just a light snowfall at the moment, but the sky had that telltale look. It figured, he supposed, that he and Liv would pull the graveyard shift on the night of a storm.

"Travel safe, John," Olivia said as he passed her desk on his way out. She glanced over to her partner. "Looks bad, huh?"

He turned to her. "Put on fresh coffee," he told her. "It's going to be a long night."

By a couple of hours later, several inches of snow had fallen outside, and there was no let-up in sight. The coffee pot was nearly drained, and worse – they had finished the largest portion of their paperwork. Other than Cragen checking up on them, the phones were as silent as the falling snow.

With a stretch and a sigh, Elliot leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "You like games, Benson?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What, like checkers?"

He chuckled. "No . . . I was thinking more like Hide and Seek, or Truth or Dare. Something to get us up off our butts."

"Well, uh, we're not five, so I'm pretty sure Hide and Seek is out," she told him. "We're old enough for Truth or Dare, but . . . the only thing that makes that game appealing is sex. Or liquor – and we can't have either." Liv's wild side, not entirely forgotten, flickered in her eyes like a motel's neon vacancy sign:

_Dare_ _me_. _Dare_ _me_. _Dare_ _me_.

An unfamiliar shiver tightened the base of Elliot's neck. He sat up straighter, glancing around the squad room, brainstorming. She wasn't wrong; obviously sex and liquor weren't on the table, but he was sure they could still entertain themselves until the storm blew over. After a few minutes, his eyes lit up, and he was up from the desk.

"Alright. Alright, I've got it – we take some of the coffee cups, the styrofoam ones, and fill 'em up like beer pong," he explained, getting excited, "we toss something in the cups. If you get it in, you get to ask me a truth question. If you miss, I get to choose truth or dare for myself, then vice versa for my own turn."

He was already crossing to the coffee station, while Olivia stared at him as though he'd tripped over the edge and plummeted straight into crazy canyon. "Elliot," she cautioned, "what if we get a call?"

"How long does it take to toss a few cups in the garbage?" he shrugged. "Not that we'll be driving far, with the blizzard that's coming."

Liv glanced outside and saw that the falling snow had gotten even heavier. She was in too good a mood to try and convince him that they were being childish. Sighing, she got up from the desk and helped him set up. They liberated a small, plastic ball from the childrens' interview room, and set up the cups on an empty counter near the window, beyond the desks that made up the center of the bullpen.

"So who's going first?"

"Ladies first," El smirked.

"Screw you."

"Flip for it?"

"Tails," she called.

He fished a coin from his pocket and tossed it. "Ladies first," he repeated, holding out the back of his hand.

"Dammit," she muttered, hating his being right. Snatching up the plastic ball, Liv eyed the cups on the counter, taking a step backwards. When she threw it, she took a deep breath as though she was undertaking a real sport.

It sank directly into a cup with a satisfying _plop_.

"Ha!" she cried, spinning on her heel to face Elliot, jabbing him in the chest with a finger. "Truth time, Stabler!"

He rolled his eyes. "Beginner's luck," he sniffed. "Hit me. I can take it."

She blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Boxers, or briefs?"

He laughed, a real, vocal laugh from his throat. "On me, or my partner?"

"Don't be an ass."

"It's a fair question! But ok. Briefs," he answered. "When I wear underwear."

Olivia smiled so wide that her eyes turned up at the corners. "Tighty-whiteys?!" she exclaimed.

"That's a second question, Benson." He retrieved the ball, and got ready for his own turn, taking an extra step backward just to show off. The throw wasn't particularly hard, but it found a cup, regardless. "So!" He rubbed his hands together in mock deviousness, "What am I gonna ask . . . "

Liv's heartrate jumped, wondering how personal he would dare to get.

"What kind of drugs have you ever done?"

She snorted. "You think I'm more interesting than I am, Stabler. Pot, and mushrooms, once or twice in college." He made a noise that she couldn't discern, but didn't probe further.

On her second turn, she missed, and she stamped her foot because he'd been right again. "Fine," she sighed, "you pick."

"Truth, of course," he grinned.

She thought about it a little longer, this time. "Did you always plan to go into the Marines?"

"Plan?" he snorted. "No. I was married at 17 – and expecting a kid. The Marines was a secure career with good money, and I needed that." He shrugged. "The only thing that I ever planned to be was a cop."

He moved away as he finished answering, going to get more coffee. Liv turned to the window and the snow, captured by the huge, silent weight of its heavy flurry. The snow was drifting , with the breeze that was gaining strength. The city would be mostly closed come sunrise, and the day would be slow – even cozy, for anyone inside with blankets and a hot beverage. She indulged in a lazy dream of a hot bath.

"My turn," Elliot said, handing her a cup of coffee made just the way she liked it. She sipped her coffee and said nothing, knowing he wouldn't miss. When the ball hit water, Liv glanced at the clock. It was just after 1 am.

"How many times have you been in love, Olivia?"

"Like, in love, in love?" she returned. Not surprisingly, he chose not to clarify. Liv thought for a moment, turning over dusty memories. "Once or twice," she answered. "Does that surprise you?"

"Not in the least," Elliot told her, passing her the ball, watching as she turned it over in her fingers.

"You know, El, you didn't have to make this mess, and make up a game ruse if all you wanted was to ask about my life." She grinned at him, lopsidedly. "We could just sit here, and talk over coffee like normal people."

He looked to the cups, then back to her. "You're not having fun?" he frowned.

"It's fine," she laughed, "just not necessary, is all. Besides, no adult picks dare when they play this game."

He gave in, at least momentarily. "Ok. Ask me something, then. Anything."

_Anything?_ "You ever cheat on Kathy?"

The pause he took seemed very long in the quiet, under the hum of the fluorescents. "Only once," Elliot finally said, "with this job."

Liv considered what that really meant, as she wrapped her hands around her warm coffee mug. "Alright. Whaddya want to know, El?"

What he really wanted to know was everything, but he knew the storm would never last that long. "You ever think about havin' kids?"

The pause before her answer was so long this time, he thought she was ignoring the question. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Sometimes I think it would be nice . . . but I've always felt like what I know, and what I _don't_ know, about my genes makes it too big of a gamble. I go back and forth. I've thought about it more often, since we started working together."

Raising an eyebrow, Elliot shot her a look. She laughed. "No, what I mean is, because of your kids. And because you're a great father; you make it look easy."

"Well, it's not easy," he admitted, "but I do think that you'd be good at it."

Liv smiled into her coffee mug.

"You gettin' tired? You should catch a few in the crib while I clean up," he told her.

"I could probably sleep." She rubbed her neck, absently.

"Go on," El said, nudging her gently. "Sweet dreams."

The sound of the wind, now roaring, lulled her to sleep as she lay in an upstairs bunk.

/

Olivia woke to the sound of the door opening in the room. It was followed by a beam of light, sweeping over the bunk where she lay covered. Squinting, she called, "Elliot?"

"Yeah," he answered, "it's me. Power went out. It should be back up in a few minutes, I just wanted to come up and check on you. Brought you a flashlight." He reached her bunk, holding out the second flashlight.

She sat up, looking at it blearily. "Thanks. Time is it?"

"About three."

Liv pulled her knees up and motioned for him to join her on the bed. "What're we gonna do now?" she asked.

"I could tell you a scary story," he replied, holding his flashlight under his chin.

"No thanks," she chuckled.

"Were you afraid of the dark, as a kid?"

"I was afraid of my mother, as a kid," she said softly.

Elliot frowned. "She hurt you?"

Liv nodded faintly. He opened his mouth, and she spoke before he could: "In all the ways."

He took a deep breath. "Want me to bring you up more coffee?"

"No. Just stay with me." She turned on her flashlight and swept the beam around the room. "Snow still coming down?"

"Yep. Looks like it's gonna keep going through the day. I might have to drive you home in a plow, at this rate," he joked, eyeing the closest window.

"It's your turn to get some sleep. You must be tired."

"Eh, I'm not bad," he shrugged. "Surprised the power isn't back up," he murmured. As if to spite him, his flashlight went out. Swearing, El shook it, trying to revive the batteries.

"Here, I got you," Liv spoke into the darkness, feeling around on the bunk where she had laid hers down. After a moment, they both heard it as it rolled from the narrow mattress to the cool tiled floor below with a clatter. "Shit."

"I'll find it," El said, getting up.

"El, it's pitch black – let me help you," she protested, throwing off the blanket.

It might have been funny, if it hadn't been after 3AM; the two of them on hands and knees in the dark, crawling around.

"Did it roll up under the bunk?" Liv wondered, moving around to the bunk's opposite side.

"Careful, Liv, don't hurt yourself."

The wind howled around the stationhouse, and Liv moved further into the darkness with hands patting the dirty tile. She reached up, finding the bottom edge of the bunk, and dipped her head down and forward to reach underneath. Her head smacked into Elliot's with an audible sound, and pain bloomed across her forehead in silver, shooting pricks.

"Goddammit!" El hissed. "Sorry! You okay?"

"I'm fine, El." She rubbed her head softly. "Any luck?"

His arm moved against hers, until he found her hand, and held it. He didn't say anything, but Olivia could hear his soft breaths in the dark. She tried not to acknowledge how wonderful his skin on her skin felt. His thumb brushed over her hand, and for a long minute there was only silence. Elliot wanted so much to tell her that there had been problems at home with Kathy, but no words came to him.

"Let me try mine again," he murmured. He tapped it against the tile, and hit the button.

Nothing.

"Guess not," he said. Just then, the power came back on, and the fluorescents flickered and tinkled to life. They were nearly on top of each other, still on all fours as their eyes adjusted, and they hurriedly stood.

"I'm going to head downstairs," Liv announced. "I'll check the phones, and start a new pot of coffee. Come on down, when you grab the flashlight."

"Yeah. Be there in a minute."

He waited until the door shut behind her before he dropped back to a knee, searching amongst the dust.

**April**, **2004 **

Olivia was distracted, as the car pulled to a stop along the curb. In truth, she had been distracted since the start of their case, two days ago. Not only was her ex gay, but now she also had the shadow of getting tested for HIV hanging over her head.

She hadn't gone to get tested right away, because she was afraid. Five years in SVU, and countless times that she'd insisted that victims get tested right away, and still Liv found herself pretending nothing was wrong.

_Do as I say, not as_ _I_ _do_, she thought.

The engine had gone silent, and the doors were still locked. She looked at Elliot inquisitively.

"Did you go to a clinic?"

Turning away, she heaved a sigh. "No. Not yet."

He twisted to face her better in the driver's seat. "'Not yet'? Liv, this isn't something that should be put off."

"The case – "

"The case will wait!" he bit out, harsher than he intended. "We're talking about your health!"

"_My_ health is _my_ business!" she snapped back. "Don't talk to me like a vic, El."

Elliot white-knuckled the console with one hand in frustration. "Ok. Alright. You're right - it's your business. I'm sorry, but I care, Liv. I need to know you're gonna be okay."

An awkward silence filled the car, while Liv kept her eyes on her hands, in her lap. "I was thirteen," she began, "when the AIDS crisis really got going. It didn't really mean much, at first, y'know . . . kids making terrible jokes . . . condom ads, everywhere you went." She looked up and met his eyes. "El, I counsel women all the time on getting tested after being raped, but . . . it's never come this close to home."

Another deep breath, another sigh as she worked to keep her voice from breaking. "And I keep thinking, y'know – why didn't I ask? Why don't people, real people in everyday situations, talk about this stuff before going to bed together? Not only that, how – how – did I not have the slightest clue that Jeff might be gay?"

Elliot leaned forward slightly, speaking close to her, conspiratorially: "Just for future reference, Liv, if a guy is not that into you - he's probably gay."

If it had been any other time, any other context, she wouldn't have hesitated to tell him that was a terrible thing to say. But she rolled her eyes, and graced him with a smile, focussing instead on the insinuated compliment.

"I'm more than willing to go with you," he reminded her. "I just . . . haven't been able to get it off my mind."

"Thanks, El. I know you're concerned. I promise I'll handle it, ok?"

"Tomorrow?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Tomorrow," she chuckled.

The door locks popped up, and Elliot flashed her his killer smile. "Blink your lights," he told her.

Stepping out of the car and into the smell of Spring that hung in the air, Liv wondered if she'd just made a promise she wouldn't keep.

**November, 2004 **

"_I touched her in an inappropriate manner. Didn't you hear?" _

_"I don't believe that. Forget that. What's going on at home?" _

_"Nothing." _

_"Hey, would you talk to me?" _

_"Kathy left me." _

The drive to Queens was long, and Elliot's confession was ceaselessly echoing in Olivia's head. The Polikoff-Denning case was finished, but El still hadn't elaborated on what had gone down between him and Kathy. Six years with him on the force had taught her that getting him to talk was like their interaction days earlier – it would end with her chasing him down.

Just a solitary light was on when Liv's tires crunched gravel pulling into El's driveway. The night was chilly, but the sky was clear, her eyes turning up to the stars as she stepped out. The house looked lonely without the noise of the kids to fill it. Liv rang the bell and huddled inside her trench coat.

"Did I wake you?" she asked softly. He was in jeans and a t shirt, far-removed from the office. Perhaps he hadn't been sleeping, but he certainly looked tired.

"Nah. What's up?"

"I came to talk," she told him bluntly.

Elliot sighed. He couldn't turn her away. He didn't want to talk. Motioning her in, he shut the door behind them. "You want a beer?" he called over his shoulder, padding to the kitchen in sock-feet.

"Sure." It would be a distraction when the talking was hard.

Olivia took a good look around, in a lingering way that she never had before. She hadn't seen much of the Stabler home over the years, just what she'd glanced at the occasional dinner invitations that El sometimes made out of pity. The house was cozy, but past its prime in terms of décor and coloring; too much wood paneling, too many browns, mustard-tones and dim lighting.

El returned with a cold beer and she followed him into the living room. It was obvious he'd been crashing on the couch for some time: it was adorned with blankets and discarded shirts, and on the nearby coffee table, dirty dishes clashed with takeout containers.

"It's a shame you had to get rid of your maid," Liv joked, making space for herself on the couch.

"If you had called, I would'a tidied up some," he smirked, swigging his beer.

"No need to abandon your Bachelor dream life on my behalf."

He laughed, soundlessly, and placed his beer on the coffee table. He began to roll the bottle neck between his hands. "Listen, I owe you an apology."

"No, you don't."

"I should know by now to trust your gut. I let my personal shit get in the way, and I'm sorry that it made things hard for you," El explained.

"El . . . have you talked to Kathy?"

He shook his head. "Not really. I mean, not much, anyway. We pass a few words when I call to talk to the kids, but," he shrugged, "she avoids talking about us."

"That's a page out of your book, for sure. Maybe she just needs time? You know, to cool off. Being married to a cop . . . it's not easy. It's not like other marriages."

El looked off across the room, his eyes unfocused as he dredged up memories. "I wasn't always a cop," he murmured. "Our marriage was pretty normal, once."

"Before SVU?"

He shook his head. "No, I was gone too much as a beat cop, too."

"You ever think about leaving the unit?"

"Do you?" Elliot raised an eyebrow. Liv didn't answer. "That's what I thought."

"Why didn't you tell me, Elliot?"

"Because it's not your responsibility to repair my marriage," he chuckled. "And you're not my shrink, either."

"I'm your _friend_," she stressed.

When he looked at her, his eyes were warm. "You are. You're my _best_ friend."

It might not have been her place to fix his marriage, but she sure as hell felt like she had a hand in helping it go wrong. Not, of course, because of any unspoken attractions between them – but she knew that when things got really hard, Elliot talked to her. He talked to her in a way that he had stopped talking to Kathy. Even when Olivia had to chase him like now, the result was still better than what had been brewing between the Stablers. And was some part of her selfishly pleased that she had something with Elliot that Kathy didn't?

_Jesus_, she thought, _when did I become this person? _

Liv took a drink of her beer and sighed. "You'll tell me, if there's anything you need? Anything I can do?"

Elliot fixed her with a look that got her pulse racing in a way that was both surprising and pleasurable. "You already give me everything I need."

_Not everything,_ she thought. _Not quite. _

**December**, **2004 **

Olivia let herself into her apartment and took great satisfaction in pitching her gym bag down the hall in a half-hearted tantrum. She had hit the gym right after her shift, punishing herself until the air rushed in and out of her chest in sharp, burning gasps. Sweat had poured in rivulets, in places she had never knew perspired – all because she was jealous.

It was not a revelatory trait; the green-eyed monster had made its presence known when Liv was much younger, just one of a variety of issues that made relationships hard for her. The main issue, in fact, that had urged her toward casual friendships, and even more casual sex. She wondered now, as she angrily kicked off her sneakers, whether things would have been better off for all involved if she had just ignored her personal rules and banged Elliot's brains out.

The freezing December air had sucked most of the satisfaction from her burning sweat. Liv stalked toward her bathroom, a bottle of cabernet and a glass in her hand, and started a hot bath. She had insulted a former friend, and crossed a line with El, simply because he had been working well with someone else. Stopping short before lifting a leg and piddling on her partner's shoes, she had still succeeded in getting her point across to both of them.

Six damn _years_. Everything had been so easy, so subtle. The covert nature of their unspoken feelings only served to heighten the pleasure of it. What was so different? He wasn't even single – only separated, alone. How could she justify being so visibly afraid of his freedom to choose someone other than herself?

The hot water sent her blood pumping, into her aching, overworked muscles, and Olivia groaned aloud. Water lapped at her skin, tickling the edges where skin met air, and goosebumps enveloped her thighs. She felt the coiled, throbbing yearn at her groin, disgusted at what she believed was weakness – knowing she would give in anyway.

It started, as always, with an image of Elliot, filling her mind. This time – not always – he was clothed; Liv pictured jeans, but no shirt. The man seemed oblivious to the thrill of his sculpted belly, and had a habit of taking his shirt off on a whim, in the crib or at his locker. Like any of her real-life encounters, she rarely focused on foreplay, jumping to things more overtly erotic. She thought about dragging her tongue, all the way down that dark, hard belly. Wondered if his skin tasted as good as he smelled.

Liv's wet fingers circled slowly around hardened nipples, dripping cooled bathwater in their wake. As it continued toward the apex of her thighs, she thought of popping the button on those jeans, and lowering the zipper. She could see how his belly muscles pulled tight, even hear his ragged breaths as he watched her hands. Beneath the surface of the bathwater, Olivia found herself so wet that it was distinguishable from the water she soaked in.

She wanted him: inside her, in her mouth, in her hand . . . in every incarnation of primal, desperate fucking. The fantasy became a slideshow, images sewn together in haste, to match the pace of her hand, the closeness of her orgasm. Her orgasm was hard, and Liv shuddered over her own fingers, eyes closed, wishing against all logic that one day, her fantasy would come true.

**March, 2005 **

Olivia had hardly stepped from inside the bar where Alex had left her, after her impromptu confession regarding her mother, when her gaze fell on Elliot. He was half in, half out of the shadows on the sidewalk where a street light's halo fell. His hands were stuffed deep into his pockets, his shoulders up against the chill. Liv stepped to the middle of the sidewalk, knowing he was looking at her. She made him meet her there, halfway.

"Alex call you?" It was an accusation, not a question.

"You're drunk," El replied.

"Mm." She shrugged. "Runs in the family."

"I'm gonna walk you home."

"They say misery loves company."

She started walking, and he fell in step beside her. The lingering taste of liquor on her lips and tongue soothed her as Liv pulled deep breaths of the cold air into her lungs. Elliot had never seen her drunk, she realized, unsure if it was worth feeling guilty about.

"Heck of a case, huh?" Elliot commented. They both knew that Denise Eldridge had dredged up some motherly ghosts.

"De ja vu all over again," Liv muttered.

"You and your, uh, older soul mate you mean?"

"Nah, he came shortly after this guy. After my mother made it clear I couldn't escape, every guy I dated was older than the last. Not that it mattered," she sighed, "Serena made sure she had me all to herself."

He wanted to say anything other than he was sorry. He was sick to death of telling the women in his life how sorry he was. A healthy dose of Catholic guilt was one thing, but the millstone Elliot carried around was starting to make it hard to hold his head up. More than being sorry, he wanted Olivia to know how he _felt_.

"Your mother, Olivia," he sighed, "she's dead and gone. Are you planning on ever forgiving her?"

"The pain isn't dead and gone, El," she replied sharply. "The damage lives on."

He was a hypocrite, and she knew it. There were issues between him and his old man that ran so deep, the roots were growing brand new trees, and Joseph Stabler had been in the ground for a dozen years.

"What good is holding onto it, or soaking your anger in alcohol gonna do?"

Liv stopped short and eyed him with a cynical smirk. "Elliot Stabler's lecturing me about anger, right now? You can't be serious."

"I don't wanna fight, Olivia," he told her, his voice calm. "Can we – you wanna grab a coffee?"

She preferred it when he let her push his buttons; fighting was their eroticism, how they blew out their sexual energy. Being vulnerable with him would be too dangerous, especially with Kathy still out of the picture. "No, El, I do _not_ want to grab coffee. If your intention was to get me home safe, we're almost there. If your intention is to shrink me, or get me to talk everything out, then you're wasting your time."

In his frustration he blurted: "My intention was to make you feel better!"

They both stopped walking. Olivia sobered slightly, blinking with surprise. Elliot cleared his throat, looking down at the sidewalk. "You've been so sad, lately, Liv. And angry. I told you - you're my best friend. I'm trying to help."

She took pity on him, then, and maybe herself as well, a little. "I'm sorry, El. I just . . . I really can't talk about this, right now. But I'm glad you're here." As if to prove it, she slipped her arm through his at the elbow. "C'mon, it's not going to get any warmer." With a tug, Liv got him walking again.

Too soon for Elliot's liking, they reached Olivia's building. He tipped his head back, gazing up at the many floors, the hundreds of lighted windows, little yellow eyes in the dark. "Can I come up?" he asked quietly.

Time grinded to a near-halt, and Liv found herself unable to take her eyes off of her partner's lips. If she wasn't such a coward, she could reach out and know how cool they felt in the March chill. Her heart hovered, pulsing painfully at the top of her throat, close enough she thought she could chew on it. He would never know how badly she wanted him to come up – and while Liv didn't assume that his question insinuated sex, she was too raw, needed to much this night for it to be safe.

Elliot stared right back at her, transfixed by the contrast of her pale cheeks with her dark lips and eyes. He wanted her. More deeply, and in more complex ways than he had ever wanted the mother of his children, and the knowledge frightened him. But goddammit . . . her trembling bottom lip, the storm she held back behind her eyes. . . . Elliot felt himself growing hard, inside his pants, in defiance of the cold.

"Not tonight, El," Liv finally sighed. _I don't trust myself enough, _her mind added.

"You sure?" _Jesus, stop pushing her, _he thought.

"Yeah. I'm just gonna head straight to bed, anyway."

"Well . . . blink your lights, anyway. Don't leave me standin' out here on the sidewalk all night."

"I will," she smiled. "Call when you get home, so I don't wait up," she returned. Before she turned away from him, Liv took one step closer, then slipped her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you for being here."

The words were spoken lowly, into the crook of his neck where her head fell, and Elliot didn't have a chance to stop the shiver it caused to ripple through him. He pressed a hand to the back of her coat, wanting her closer. He inhaled her scent, soundlessly. "Yeah," he answered, "any time, Liv."

Olivia left him alone then. Through her lobby, up the stairs, down the corridor to her apartment door, and then inside, she hurried, breathing quickly. The words blended together and crashed through her head once her lock was safely turned_: Hewashard, hewashard, hewashard_. She squeezed her legs together and forced herself not to text him and go back on her decision. Without even looking out the curtain down to the street, she blinked her living room lights.

_He was hard. For me._ She allowed herself to marvel at it for a moment. All thoughts of her mother, or of drinking, had flown from her mind. She decided that when El called to say he'd reached Queens, she would have to tell him that he had made her feel better, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Enjoy this chapter, everyone! Your reviews have been so wonderful, and I am humbled by them. To everyone waiting on Equinox, I haven't given up, I swear to God. I apologize. For those of you following Almanac, you're probably not going to like me very much by the time it's over, jussayin. I don't think it's going in the direction y'all might think it is. I hate divorce fics, and I like to stick to the overall canon storyline . . . so you can expect the angst to get super high, starting next chapter.**_

_**Rating: T, so far, but eventually MA**_

_**Spoilers: 911, Ripped, Fault, Fat**_

_**Disclaimer: They are for sure not mine, but while I'm at it, can I put in a request for some more of Liv kicking ass like this week's episode? Hells yes! Also, I borrowed them for a while. Not for profit, though, I promise.**_

**Partners Almanac**

_**September, 2005 **_

Olivia could feel everything, every molecule that made up the moment in time: the overturned earth pressed beneath her knees, the Fall air all around her, the twinkle of the indifferent stars far above her.

"Stay with me. Come on, Maria," she panted, between breaths of CPR. "Come on, girl. Come on, yeah."

Then, the tiny brunette was coming back to life. Dazed, gasping for breath. "Yeah, it's okay, honey. It's okay. Good girl. It's okay," Liv started repeating herself as her face dissolved into an enormous smile of relief, eyes stinging with grateful tears. "It's okay, Maria. It's okay."

"Olivia," Maria breathed, reverent.

Olivia gathered the little girl into her arms and staggered to her feet, turning toward the waiting ambulance.

"You found me!" Maria whispered.

"I told you I would," Liv replied, reaching the stretcher and reluctantly laying the child back down. "These people are going to take care of you now, okay? But I'll come and see you again in the morning."

"Okay, Olivia."

She stepped back, and was immediately crowded out by the two medics.

Fin arrived alongside her. "You did it, Liv. You saved that girl's life, and everyone thought you were bein' played."

"Yeah," she sighed.

"Good work, Olivia."

She nodded in acceptance of the genuine praise, overwhelmed by how tired she suddenly was. The next few days would bring endless paperwork, interviews with Maria, and cooperation with the feds, but the only thing Liv could envision was her bed.

"Fin, you mind takin' me home?"

"Whatever you need – you earned it."

Her apartment was dark, and she walked through it without bothering to touch a switch. The date that had been interrupted by Maria's call to 911 was completely wiped from memory. Liv stripped off her shirt, kicking out of her jeans, reaching her rumpled bed in just her panties. Letting out a moan of satisfaction as she crawled into the cool sheets, dropping her face into her pillow.

Her cell phone began to ring.

"Fuck!" she muffled into the pillow. Back out of the bed, she yanked her jeans from the floor and fished the phone from the pocket. "Hello?"

"I heard about your phone call," Elliot said softly. "You okay?"

Rubbing her forehead, Liv got back in the bed, curling into the pillows. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"I hear you missed a date tonight. Wanna meet me for breakfast? My treat," he said, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

"Sure," she mumbled. Then: "I wish you were here, El."

A long pause followed, before he answered. "Me too." He waited, wondering if he should offer to come over. After several minutes, he tried again. "Liv?"

All that came back was her slow, even breathing. Olivia had fallen asleep.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

_**October, 2005 **_

The ticking of the clock in Hendrix's office was thunderous, throbbing in Elliot's ears as his palms sweated, and his chest filled with anxiety at the memory he was reliving.

"I didn't hand it in," he confessed.

"Why not?"

"I moved one of the trees. And my father saw it as I was leaving for school. He took it out of my hands, and he threw it on the ground and he stomped on it."

"It must've really hurt when he did that."

Fuck her. He didn't want her help, or her fake sympathy. But it was too late – he could feel the shame in him breaking as his confession bled out. "He took off his belt and he beat me with it. Because I cried. And only pan . . . pansies cry. He said I was weak. And called me a failure. Called me that a lot."

"What did you see in that mirror today, Elliot?"

"The guy my father always saw."

"You're not weak. You're so busy being strong and helping everyone, you've got nothing left for yourself. It takes a lot more balls to talk about your problems than beat the hell out of a ghost."

His feet carried him away from her office In a daze, still not quite sure what had brought him to her door. It wasn't what Olivia seemed to think – he wasn't attracted to Rebecca. If he was, he certainly wouldn't have been in her office, crying and moaning about things from the past.

Okay, some things about the recent past, but the past nonetheless.

Kathy had been gone for a year. A _year_, and Elliot couldn't move – in any direction, let alone forward. The reflection before he'd beat the shit out of Breslin wasn't the first mirror in a year that had shown something that haunted him. It was the fear of Liv's eyes becoming the next of those mirrors that now paralyzed him most. He had lost his wife, his children, what little self control he normally had, and was well on his way to losing his faith. Elliot refused to lose the last thing that felt like home, that felt like love.

"Christ!" he snapped, slamming his already-swollen hand against the steering wheel. "Christ, what a coward I am."

He had nowhere to go. He couldn't bring himself to go home to the empty, dark house, and he felt too raw to throw himself on Liv's mercies – as much as he knew she would have him. Drinking wasn't appealing at the moment either. It was amazing, how the job took away all time for friendship that was simply for friendship's sake. What could he do? Start sleeping in his car at the curb in front of his partner's place?

Elliot wondered if this was what things were going to be like, from now on. Would he grow old at his desk, perhaps retire, like Alphonse, and go to Florida? Everything . . . and at once, nothing, seemed possible. He envisioned himself lost this way, drifting with no place to land as he neared retirement. It would never fly, he thought, knowing his loneliness would devour him.

Snapping out of his daydream, he found his hand hovering over his cell, considering calling Kathy, then considering Liv. The sound of his breathing inside the car was harsh. All he knew for sure was that something had to give, before the rope snapped completely.

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_**December, 2005 **_

Now the second Christmas without his family came up on the calendar. Elliot dug his heels in and made an effort not to think about it – an impossible task in New York in December, if ever one had been undertaken, no doubt. Cases had been fast and furious since October, and Elliott's getting shot was a - albeit drastic – distraction along the way, but Olivia hadn't been totally oblivious to her partner's unrest.

Christmas Day dawned deeply cold and quiet, causing Liv to stamp her feet on El's Welcome mat as she waited for him to answer her knock.

"Merry Christmas!" she smiled brightly, her breath disappearing into wisps of vapor. She held up the present she had brought along with her. "In case Santa missed you."

He looked from the gift to her face, then back again. "Merry Christmas," he grinned. "Come in."

Thankfully, the heat was up inside the house, and Liv was able to start peeling off layers immediately. Following the commotion she heard, she found Elliot in the kitchen making coffee.

"You hungry?" he asked, "I could make you some breakfast."

In eight years, she had only ever seen her partner eat breakfast out of paper bags, or at greasy spoon diners on the fly. "I didn't even think you made breakfast," Liv smirked.

El raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge?" She didm't answer, so he said, "Accepted," and opened his fridge.

"You talk to the kids yet?"

He nodded as he piled ingredients on the counter. "Yeah, a couple hours ago; they were up and finished by the time the sun came up, as usual. Everyone seems happy."

She knew that they missed him, but she sidestepped pointing out the obvious. Elliot hadn't been able to see the kids much, and even if Kathy's being difficult was removed from the equation, the demands of the job on his time filled in much of the rest.

Olivia sipped her coffee and watched El chop vegetables, wondering about the hundreds of breakfasts that must have happened there. She thought about the kid's chatter, about rushing to get ready for school, burnt pop tarts and spilled cereal. Had the fights happened here, too? Or had they been reserved for inside the walls of their bedroom, where once those children had been conceived?

Her hand gripped the mug's handle in an attempt to halt the path of her thoughts. Liv realized that watching El whip, stir and sauté things was probably the happiest she'd ever been spending time with him outside of work. Slowly, almost magically, a full breakfast appeared on the island in front of her: a cheese and veggie omelette, bacon, buttered toast, cut fruit.

Widening her eyes, she looked up at Elliot. "Eight years we've been partners – you never _once_ brought me homemade breakfast!?"

He grinned, pleased that she was happy, then shrugged. "I gotta lot of time lately. My mornings are very different." Wiping his hands against the sides of his jeans, he said, "Besides, I've got a present to open!"

Scarfing down her breakfast, Liv could hardly swallow fast enough to turn to him as he picked up the wrapped box from the table. "It's not much," she warned him.

Tearing it open, Elliot found a framed photo of himself and Olivia – a candid, taken by someone in the squad room, probably. He was half-sitting on the corner of his desk, and Liv was standing casually, comfortably alongside his legs that were crossed at the ankle. She was laughing, her hand extended to push his shoulder scoldingly, and he was looking down, grinning. Had he been telling a joke? Teasing her? It was hard to say. Liv looked beautiful.

I look so happy, El thought with surprise.

"It's silly, I know," Liv said, breaking into his thoughts, "but you always complain there are no good pictures of us after all these years, and I already have pictures of us at my place . . . " she shrugged, blushing lightly. "I thought now you'd have to come up with a new reason to complain."

Elliot grinned broadly, looking back down to the picture. "Liv, this is great! I'm so sorry I didn't get you anything," he told her softly.

"But you did!" she laughed. She held up the piece of toast that she was halfway through munching and matched his grin. "You got me breakfast!"

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

_**May, 2006 **_

Elliot felt so small, and at the moment the bus terminal seemed so big. Still growing, in fact – swelling, chaotic with people, with noise. Everywhere, civilians trampled across the dingy linoleum like antelopes down the valley of the savannahs. He steeled himself, driving himself to focus, and looked again at the mass of moving people.

There he was: Ryan Clifford, as if the sea had parted, leaving the little boy standing between two walls of interrupted wave water. He had blonde, curly hair and dark blue eyes that were filled with terror. The child was as white as a ghost.

"Ryan!" Elliot called, "Ryan! Hey buddy. Come here." He kept his eyes on the boy with laser-precision, stepping slowly forward in an effort not to spook him.

"Freeze!"

It was Olivia. Elliot could hear her voice behind him, over his shoulder – fifteen, maybe eighteen feet across the terminal floor. Ryan still hadn't moved, and finally El was compelled to break their locked stare, turning to where Liv stood.

Ryan's sister, Rebecca, served as Victor Gitano's human shield as he faced off with Olivia. She had drawn her weapon, but would never risk taking an unsure shot, especially with a kid involved. A lead ball of red-hot fear took up in the center of Elliot's gut. Gitano was too close, he didn't like it. Gitano lunged slightly, testing Olivia's nerve, and then lunged again, this time striking out with the knife that El hadn't noticed in his other hand.

Olivia's hands flew to her throat, her weapon forgotten as she sank to the floor. Gitano took his opportunity and moved, as slick as oil on water's surface, racing to the escalator where Ryan was still waiting for Elliot to decide to save his life.

For as many times as he had ever imagined a moment like it happening, his tortuous daydreams had done a pathetic injustice to the terror, adrenaline and dizzying nausea that slammed Elliot all at once. Gitano grabbed Ryan, pulling him along onto the escalator, and still, the child did not make a sound. Tearing his gaze away, El turned toward the screaming, still-swarming crowd and elbowed his way into it.

"Move!" he screamed. It seemed to take an eternity to close the distance between them. "Olivia!" he cried, "Oh my God . . . "

He didn't recognize the thin, terrified voice coming out of his own throat. The fluorescent light swam in his vision from tears that he hadn't even felt spring to his eyes. "No! No!" Reaching her at last, he crashed to his knees, moving her hands from her throat so he could see. _Please, God, please – I love her, _he_ t_hought, _please, don't take her from me. _

Liv's breathing was still rushing from her throat in lines of fire. She realized that her wound wasn't gushing blood, that her jugular was intact. "It's okay," she said unsteadily, "I'm okay. I'm okay! Where's Gitano? Go Elliot, go! I'm fine. Go! Go!"

Her voice was gaining strength, becoming desperate in its trying to force El to his feet, but he remained unconvinced. His eyes kept sweeping her face, trying to assess her injury. His brain was screaming to go after the two children, do his goddamn job.

His heart had never been louder, telling him to never leave her again.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

_What a way to end,_ Elliot thought, as the muzzle of Gitano's weapon jabbed into his neck once again. He didn't believe in reincarnation, but he wondered if maybe he would do better if there ever was a second time around. _Couldn't keep my wife happy, too scared to tell Liv I love her . . . picked a goddamn fight with her, knowing it was my own fault_.

Now he was taking his self-prescribed punishment: an eye for an eye, so sayeth the Lord, amen. Ryan had died because of Elliot's choice, and Elliot wouldn't hesitate to choose to die to end the psychopath who was holding him at gunpoint.

But Gitano was still trying to bargain. "You know . . . you know that little girl? It's possible she isn't dead. She could be locked up in this building somewhere, huh? Or someplace else, 50 miles away. You don't really know, do you?"

"You're a liar," Liv gritted out, focusing all her energy on keeping her gun steady, her muscles pulled tight.

"Yeah, well, that's the point."

"Tell us where she is, Victor," she tried.

"She's here! She's not dead, otherwise he would've been long gone!" Elliot cried in frustration. Then he glanced over his shoulder. "Unless you like 'em dead - you sick like that, too, Gitano? You like to play with corpses?"

"Yeah, I like that. The deader, the better. They don't fight as much."

"Olivia, you think about me, Rebecca is dead. Pull that trigger. Shoot him. Shoot him. Olivia, shoot him."

"Yeah, do that. But you better make sure you take me out with one shot. One perfect, perfect shot. Of course, my reflexes are pretty tight - I could pull the trigger before the bullet even hits me. Or maybe you miss me all together. Either way, there's an 80% chance I'm gonna take this guy's head clean off!" Gitano yelled, then dropped his voice back to a conversational level, "But you try it, definitely. It'll probably turn out great."

"You can kill us both, Victor. You'll still never walk out of here."

"Right. Right, 'cause uh . . . 'cause you've got some buddies comin', huh? When's that going down?"

"Any minute," she answered.

"Great. Great."

"Just tell us where you hid her," Olivia tried again.

"You know, you could put the gun down. At least then, you might find her. Otherwise, she's gonna die. _She's_ gonna die, _he's_ gonna die, and it'll be all your fault. Just like the little boy. How's your neck?"

"It's not the same thing, Olivia. You know that," Elliot countered.

"Yes it is, _Olivia_. God, you two couple of screw-ups! How could you let that little boy go?"

"Olivia, look at me," El pleaded.

"Maybe you're just incompetent," Gitano tossed out, trying desperately to hook either of them into his game.

"You can do the right thing. I didn't. I made that choice with Ryan, and it was wrong."

She didn't want to look at him. All she wanted was to focus on keeping her gun aimed, and keeping everyone alive until backup showed up. Anger coursed through her, making her tremble, embarrassed that she was losing her effort not to cry in front of the sick fuck who had her partner at gunpoint. "Elliot - " her voice broke, betraying her further.

"It was my fault. Don't do it," he coaxed.

"Shut up!" Gitano snappped.

"Don't make that mistake," Elliot pushed.

"_Stop_. _Talking_!" Gitano shouted, trying to listen and assess Olivia's stance at the same time.

"I would've done the same thing," Liv confessed, and felt her chest loosen slightly with the relief of telling him the truth.

"I said shut up!"

"Don't make my mistake," El repeated calmly.

A creak in the distance made Gitano jump, looking over his shoulder then quickly back to Liv. "Drop it. Drop the gun. Drop it now! Put the gun down now!" he screamed at her. "You cops don't come in here, or everybody dies!" he warned. He tried, one last time, to get Olivia to bargain. He spoke to her conspiratorially, "Hey! Hey! Hey! I'll tell you where she is!"

"Where?"

"She's in a van parked in a garage in Newark. She might still be alive."

She could feel the time slowly pouring through her fingers as they clenched her service weapon in despair. "He's lying," she stage-whispered to her partner.

"I know," Elliot said softly.

"He's never gonna tell us," Liv said in defeat. _I've never loved another man the way I love you_, she thought.

"You're right," El nodded, using what may have been his last breaths to back her up.

"We can all walk out of here alive if you just put the gun down," Gitano insisted, his desperation reaching its crescendo.

"It's all right." He tried to make it sound as much like_ I love you_ as he could.

Liv mouthed, "I'm sorry," as tears betrayed her brave stand-off in the chilly warehouse.

Elliot closed his eyes, began to pray.

_I can't, I can't, I can't_ – the litany filled her head and blocked out all other thoughts, all other sounds. Before her hearing came rushing back, the last thing Olivia heard was the gunshot, over the pounding of her own heart.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

_**July, 2006 **_

_Forgive me, Father . . . It's been two years since my last confession. _

The confessional was stifling despite the fact Summer seemed barely underway. It was appropriately dark – an airless, dark, anonymous place where people could hedge the things that they outright lied about in weekday life. Elliot cast his eyes toward his shoes, where what faint light there was spilled across them, illuminating the dirt on them.

As a man of great faith, he felt it an apt metaphor for the state of his soul.

_These are my sins: I was selfish . . . _

His retina were permanently stained with the moving images of that day. Of Ryan's small, pale face as it disappeared up the escalator, of Olivia's hands at her throat, red-brown lifeblood staining her fingertips. The fear that filled him was not one he recognized – an impressive feat, after four kids and a life on the force.

The sound of his voice – _**No! No!**_ – and the look in Liv's eyes were enough to haunt anyone. Elliot had been presented with the one choice that he had prayed never to have to make, and still he wasn't sure if he had passed or failed. Olivia's skin was cool, tacky with panic. But she was alive. He wondered when he had started breathing again.

_. . . and disrespectful_.

The fire of her dark eyes, the contrast of her skin against the white steri-strips on her throat. "Have you got something you wanna say to me? 'Cause if you do, let's hear it."

The confessional closed in on him, as he recalled his own words, borne out of the fear that had been simmering in him. His guilt overflowed, drowning both of them in sentences they knew were lies.

"I can't be looking over my shoulder making sure you're okay."

"You son of a bitch! You _know_ that's not true!"

_I lost my temper_.

"I need to know you can do your job and not wait for me to come to your rescue!"

Olivia was the smartest, strongest woman he knew. Even as the words formed in his mouth, he was filled with shame, with disgust at himself. He was a coward.

_For these, and all of my sins, I am truly sorry_.

"After two years, that's it? Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you, Elliot?" Father Fryson urged.

"It's like I keep losin' people."

"Like your family?"

_Like Olivia_, he thought. "My family . . . my kids . . . friends."

"You said friends. You mean someone at work?"

Elliot's beeper displaced the musty, whisper-filled quiet of the booth. "Sorry, Father, I gotta go."

The bright day, and clean cool breeze made Elliot squint as he stepped out onto the church's front steps. He stopped at the closest food truck and ordered a coffee. Olivia had hardly been gone four full weeks, and Elliot felt he was losing his mind. He'd started taking his coffee the way she drank hers, had started lingering at her side of the desk, moving things and rearranging them. Soon he might be sniffing around her old locker, trying to catch her scent, he supposed, like a lost puppy.

The Poets had a verse or two, for what he was feeling, he was sure, but they varied greatly from what his priest would have called it.

_Ego te absolvo, in nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti. Amen. _

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

He hadn't had a new or different partner in nearly eight years. But Lucius Blaine? This guy was punishment, and Elliot knew it. The need to get away from him grew exponentially stronger as the days stretched out, sparking a tempest in a teapot.

"Don't give me that holier-than-thou crap! I _know_ how you work."

"You know nothing about me," Elliot snarled.

"No wonder your partner dumped you," Blaine spat.

"What'd you just say to me?"

"You screwed her, and now you're trying to screw me," he continued.

The tactile, meat-on-meat smack of Stabler's fist hitting skin was thrilling and humiliating. They tussled, but his heart wasn't in it. Elliot felt old – much older than his years.

The dark, cluttered abyss of his locker brought him back to confession_. I lost my temper. For these and all my sins . . . _

"I like that shirt."

He turned toward the sound of her voice, drawn like ship through fog. It slowed his fingers on the shirt buttons, providing a flash of stomach as he faced her. Christ, she'd been gone less than 28 days and yet Elliot found himself rocked by her beautiful fucking face. Liv's dark eyes were hooded with a greedy, impish desire that he rarely got to see.

"What are you doin' here?"

"I heard what happened between you and Blaine," she told him, her tone sympathetic.

"What can I tell you? He's a prick." Elliot crossed to where she stood, purposely invading the privacy of her space. He glanced at her lips, then dragged his gaze up to her eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He could smell the familiar scent of her skin, her perfume. If he closed his eyes long enough, he could imagine a place inside her where he could curl up and rest.

"Elliot, we've been partners for seven years - longer than anybody else here. We needed a change." Olivia held his gaze, knowing that wasn't good enough. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. It's just . . . just too complicated," she whispered.

His eyes narrowed again. They were both cowards. "Thanks for dropping by," he said lowly, and left her there alone.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeo

The end of July had come slowly to a boil, driving Olivia to sleep in ragged old t-shirts and her underwear. When she vaulted out of her most recent nightmare, she was tangled in the damp top sheet, panting in the dark. From the open window came the scent of Summer in the city, carried on a tepid breeze that provided little relief.

Liv extracted herself from the sheet, growling in frustration, and got to her feet. Since transferring to Computer Crimes, she'd suffered nightmares about Gitano regularly, which only served to compound her misery. Getting to work away from breathing victims was a necessary change of pace, but the rest of it . . . the rest of it was just more running. She and Elliot had been running from the elephant in the room for nearly two and a half years.

Liv flushed and rinsed her hands, then padded barefoot to the kitchen, searching in the fridge for something to drink. Swearing, she slammed it shut, raking her hands through her hair, and turning to the cupboard where she stored her wine. She stood at her kitchen counter, listening to the tick of the wall clock, sipping a glass of red wine. It was 2am.

She missed Elliot, desperately. There was no hard rule that she couldn't text him or call him, but they had hardly been in touch since she had asked Cragen for the transfer, sneaking off to another unit without telling the man she had worked with for eight years. He would have asked her to stay, and there was too much at stake – for both of them. His ultimatum asked for the one promise she couldn't keep: to never choose him over the job again. Might as well have asked her to fly to the moon.

Going to Computer Crimes was giving him what he'd wanted – or, so she thought. He just didn't see it yet. It would either get better, like she kept telling herself, or it would destroy them both, as long as the nightmares didn't get her first. Olivia was thirty-eight, and just so tired of being lonely.

"Fuck this," she muttered, reaching for her cell that was on the counter. She typed a message to Elliot, then choked, her thumbs hovering over the keypad. Liv backspaced, tried again, thinking of him in the locker room earlier that day.

She had never looked at him before with such open, obvious desire. The more time they were apart, the more it seemed to build between them. She closed her eyes and hit the send button.

In less than a full minute, a response chimed: _What are you doing up? _

_Fucking nightmares,_ she typed, _can't seem to shake them._ She hit send again, then typed, _I'm sorry for the way I left things. _

_Are you okay?_ El's reply asked. Then:_ I'm sorry I walked off on you. _

Of course she wasn't okay, but how was she supposed to tell him that, while still maintaining some semblance of her dignity?_ I've been better,_ she typed, staring at the backlit phone screen until the words blurred. Liv caught her breath, typed_ I miss you,_ and hit send before she could talk herself out of it.

_I want to see you._ Liv stared at El's five-word response, her heartbeat seeming to get louder with each reading.

_No need to come all the way from Queens at 2:15_ she sent back, hating herself and her cowardice. How exhausted she was, of pretending like she was somehow rooting for Elliot and Kathy to work things out, of on-and-off dating other men, just to keep precinct rumors down.

_I can be there in 5_ was the next message, and Olivia furrowed her brows.

_How's that? _

_I'm not in Queens_ he responded.

A soft knock came at Liv's door.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry for the delay, all! Enjoy! Reviewssssss please! They are life!**

**Rating: MA for graphic sexual content **

**Spoilers: Fault, Fat**

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Unless you're Dick Wolf (which I doubt), they're not yours either, so don't sweat it.**

**Partners**** Almanac**

_**July 31, 2006 **_

Liv opened the door and put her hands on her hips. "Elliot," was all she said, knowing he would interpret everything it meant.

"That's a good look for you," he smirked.

She blushed, having forgotten she was in just her panties and a t shirt. "Come in, and wait here," she told him, heading back to her bedroom. Returning in a pair of linen pyjama pants, she went right back to pressing him. "So?"

"I was in the neighborhood," El answered.

"Oh, yeah, my neighborhood is a really convenient shortcut to Queens." Liv rolled her eyes. "Come on, El, stop freaking me out."

He sighed. "I been workin' late a lot . . . I can't stand goin' home to that huge, empty house." He shrugged, "I started taking walks when I get off shift, and your neighborhood is quiet. Plus, well – I miss you," Elliot admitted, swallowing hard over how pathetic he felt. "Are you okay? Wanna tell me about your nightmare?"

Liv shook her head slowly. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

"Just some water." He watched her get a glass and run the tap, wondering what her nightmares were like. Most of his had been happening while he was wide awake, but it was still the same ghost, the same haunting.

She brought him the glass, standing inches from him as he drank it down. He smelled good – his cologne, mixed with cool Summer air; she imagined what it would feel like to run her fingers through his short hair. "I'm okay," she finally said quietly. "Just haven't been getting much sleep."

"I figured you'd be sleepin' like a baby, workin' Computer Crimes," he smiled. It was without malice, and Liv gave it a pass.

"How's Blaine doing?"

"We, uh – we kissed and made up," El nodded, "and now he's on his way to his next assignment."

"I'm sure that made Cragen real happy."

"Nothing makes Cragen happy," Elliot chuckled, "especially not having to find partners to put up with me."

"Well, you are a piece of work, Stabler." They both laughed then, and Liv felt herself finally relax.

He took several steps toward the counter and put down his glass. "I owe you an apology," he told her. She took a breath to speak, but Elliot stopped her. "Not just for walking off, but for blowing up at you after Gitano. I knew it wasn't your fault, and I was out of line. I didn't mean . . . any of what I said, and I'm sorry."

For a moment, Liv could only blink. "Well," she whispered, "I'm sorry - "

"No," El shook his head, "I'm tired of apologizing to each other. Tired of carrying around grief like a damn monkey on my back, constantly feeling like I have to unburden myself. I deserved it. We both know it. It's not like I didn't push you, Liv – just like I pushed everything else."

"It's not your fault that Ryan died, Elliot," Olivia said softly.

It wasn't that he hadn't heard the words, more than once since that day - it was how badly he'd needed to hear them from her. Relief broke over him in a wave, and he was aware of his eyes filling up with tears. Blinking them away, he cleared his throat. "How long can I keep telling myself that everything is not my fault?" he said quietly. Raising his head to meet her eyes, he said, "I need you to come back to work, Liv. Please."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It came out in a sigh as she shook her head. "El, I can't." Liv turned to the living room, walking away from him.

"Why?" he pressed, and followed her. "Tell me why, Liv. It's where you belong!"

"I know that."

"Then why the hell not? SVU has been your home, for all these years – "

"You were my home, Elliot!" Her voice trembled. "A choice like the one you had to make . . . we both know that we can't go back, to before. What you're asking, El – to not put you over the job again – I can never make that promise. Because I _would_ choose you. Every time."

Liv was poised, half in the shadows of her living room, and half in the moonlight from the window. Now she crossed her arms over her chest in self-protection and defiance. "I can't lose that, El. Coming back means giving up that choice, and I won't let that happen."

Elliot put his hands on his hips, looking down to his feet, then up to the room's ceiling. "Liv," he said, "how long have Kathy and I been split up?"

Liv's brows knit together in confusion. "About two years?"

"Yeah. You know how many dates I've gone on?" he raised his eyebrows. "One," he answered himself, "and that's it."

He took several steps forward, until he was right in front of her. "Why do you think that is?" he asked. His next inhale shook. When she didn't answer, El leaned in, his mouth alongside her ear and whispered, "Truth or dare, Liv?"

A slice of fear and desire shot through Liv so forcefully that her stomach knotted. Elliot's head pulled back from her ear, and there was a breath's pause before Olivia drew him closer with a hand to his jawline, and their lips met. It seemed so loud, in the stillness of the night, their breath rushing, the sounds of lips and tongues touching.

He tasted perfect, as though all the men who had gone before were a prelude to what was now her real first kiss. He smelled comforting, like his laundry detergent, like squad coffee and everything in New York that was home to her. They fit together like they were practiced lovers – which they were, of a kind – and yet every touch had the spark, the thrill of a boundary being crossed.

Elliot was unsettled by the force of his own desire. What a fool he had been, to think that they would be able to avoid this ever happening. The kiss broke with both of them panting, but in seconds Liv lunged for his throat with an open-mouthed kiss over the spot where his pulse-point thundered. He growled, his throat vibrating under her touch.

"_Fuck_," he whispered.

"Yes, please," was her mumbled response against his neck.

Her bedroom seemed to invite them with a sigh of relief. The curtain was pulled back to let in what little breeze there was, and moonlight criss-crossed the shadows over crumpled sheets. Goosebumps peppered the soft skin of her belly where he brushed it as he urged her onto the end of the bed. Elliot felt a need to repeat each touch, scared that he'd never get another opportunity. She looked up at him from where she sat, and her brown eyes were large, filled with the same heat that he'd seen in the locker room.

El put his fingers under her chin and memorized her face, smiling softly. "Olivia, I love you," he told her.

Liv broke the gaze immediately, her heart stilling for a beat. She would die for him, and not give it a second thought, but love words froze in her throat as though they would cut her on their way out. Instead of speaking, she reached for his zipper. Moisture pooled on her tongue in mirror of what was pooling between her legs.

He felt so good in her hand: silky, firm, throbbing. A perfect fit. She drew her mouth up the side of his shaft from the root of him, then swept her tongue over the glistening tip and took him deep into her mouth. Liv hummed with pleasure at the taste and the pulse of him on her tongue. She had wanted to have him like this, to possess him, to take him into her, for so long. She had burned with a petty jealousy at Kathy's physical intimacy with Elliot, aching for this moment.

For his part, Elliot was reeling. Kathy had been so mild in bed since the twins had been born, and he had learned to get by on the bare minimum. He didn't dare touch Liv's head, not even to comb his fingers through her dark hair. Fingertips dug into his hips deep enough to leave prints, and a moan strangled out of his throat as his cock twitched on Liv's tongue. It was a fine distraction, from the words she refused to return, but more than anything he wanted to touch her.

Pulling back, he reached for the bottom of her t shirt and tugged it over her head. Elliot placed warm palms over Liv's breasts in the moonlight, lifting their weight and stroking over the pale skin laced with veins. Covering her, they shimmied up the mattress, where Elliot pushed her arms above her head and dipped his mouth to the hollow of her throat. Teeth and tongue trailed marks down her chest, before El settled over a dusky pink nipple.

Olivia let out a low moan that made his cock throb between their bodies, and arched into it, amazed by how safe she felt. She wasn't the type to let her lovers pin her; she couldn't stand to lose control or to be possessed in that way, yet . . . with Elliot doing it, she felt almost relieved. There wasn't a cell in her body that was afraid of him – that could be afraid of him, only of losing him. He rolled his hips, pushing into her, and a whimper she didn't recognize came out of her.

_I do love you_, Olivia thought, _God, I do love you,_ but she cursed her fear of saying it out loud. _Let me show you. _

But Elliot would beat her to it, closing his hands over her linen pyjamas and pulling them down. How many times had she wondered, dreamed what this would look like? Her breaths were shallow. She was embarrassed to find she was trembling all over, like she was a teenager again, distracting herself from the clutches of her mother. El slipped his arms beneath her and laid his head against her inner thigh.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, and the tenderness in his voice filled Liv's chest with a heavy ache.

No other lover had ever taken their time like Elliot did, spreading her open and admiring her, breathing so close to her that his breath tickled her clit, making her even wetter. She buried her fingers in his scalp mercilessly as his tongue drew slow lines over her labia, circled her clit, and tasted her where she was wettest.

"_Nnnnngod_, El, please," she keened, "please, oh – "

"Tell me."

"Please, touch me," Liv whispered, "put your fingers inside me."

He sucked her clit and brought two fingers to her entrance, sliding them slowly in to the hilt of his knuckles., watching her pelvis buck in response. She felt better than he could have fantasized: slick, hot, desperate for him. Tongue and fingers working in tandem, his ears burned at the noises she made. Unable to tamp his excitement as the tension built, he wriggled to his knees between her legs and leaned back over her prone body.

"Come for me, Olivia," he breathed in her ear. El sank his fingers back into her, faster. "You feel amazing," he gasped.

Liv went rigid, white-knuckling his forearm with both her hands as she came on his fingers. "Christ, that was perfect," he panted after a moment, "I want to do it again."

"I think it's _your_ turn," Liv laughed.

He dropped beside her with a light snort. She wasn't wrong – he was painfully hard, his crown dripping to show for it, but he would've went on ignoring it as long as she let him. But Olivia was done with waiting, sliding one of her long legs across his waist, she pulled herself into a straddle over his hips.

"C'mere," El smiled, tugging her wrist to get her to lower onto his chest. He captured her lips in a soft kiss, thrilled by the feel of her naked breasts on his skin.

"You still wanna make me come again?" she murmured.

He held her gaze as he reached between them, grasping his cock and brushing it against her swollen pussy. She could feel him, still throbbing furiously. A shift of her own hips, and his thick, slippery cock slid into her like the key to her heart.

"_Yes_," she hissed, overwhelmed by finally having him – really having him, after so long. "Oh, _God_, yes."

Elliot let out the breath he'd been holding, wondering at the feeling of himself, throbbing inside of her. Then Liv moved, and he was amazed all over again. His head arched back into the pillows, exposing the column of his throat as she slid against him. He'd almost lost her, twice, which had come with a hollow terror. Now everything felt full, seam-stretchingly full, for the first time since Kathy had left him. Vaguely he was aware of Olivia's teeth, nibbling his Adam's apple. He would be more than happy to let her tear it from his throat if she wanted, if only he didn't have to lose her again.

She moved faster. Even her moans were perfect. El raised his pelvis and bucked into her, bringing her back to a straddle. Liv brought her own hand to her pelvis and stroked her clit at a fevered pace.

"Fuck, El," she groaned, "yeah . . . fuck me."

"Say my name again."

"Elliot," she gritted out.

"_Yeah_," he sighed, and at the sound he felt Olivia tighten around him.

Shuddering on top of him, a goddess in the moonlight, Liv rode out her orgasm. The last ripples drew Elliot over the edge with her and he thought the force of it might split him in two. Like a starving woman, she took everything he had to offer up, refusing to let him go.

Long minutes passed before they had completely caught their breaths. Elliot's large hand covered Liv's head where it was pressed to his chest, stroking her hair gently. The rhythmic, mumbled race of his heartbeat lulled her into the first safe sleep that she'd had in weeks.

eoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoeoe

Just after dawn, Elliot woke to the rustle of sheets and the slide of Liv's skin again. Without even looking, he knew he was as hard as a rock for her. He glanced down to find her watching his cock intently, her exhales tickling across him.

"Did I wake you?" she asked quietly.

"No ma'am," he chuckled.

Liv's hand wrapped around the warm, hard length of him and stroked, firmly. She took her time, very much intending to enjoy herself. Slowly, deliberately, learning every ridge and vein of him, Elliot watched his partner stare at his cock, open-mouthed and sleepy-eyed. Was it possible to fall in love with her all over again, twice in one night?

El relaxed, letting his head fall back to the pillow, wanting to focus as intently as she was. Her mouth touched him then, a kiss planted on his hip bone, as her other hand drew up and carefully lifted the weight of his balls into her palm. His breath rushed out in a sigh, his hips squirmed in pleasure as she caressed them, moving her mouth to the tip. Liv's tongue licked a deliberate outline around the glans and crown of him, long sweeps taking in the lubrication there. She took the head in, lips pursed tightly, and tugged down on his balls lightly, humming at the groan it drew from him.

_She's gonna kill me_, he thought. "I'm not as young as I once was," he warned her hoarsely.

"No?" she replied with a grin, "You look pretty good to me." With a quiet giggle, she took the full length of him in one fell swoop, and was rewarded with a long moan. He was thick, and filled her mouth in a satisfying, pleasurable way.

Olivia let her saliva coat his already slick erection, sucking him in earnest. Secretly, she had always been terrifically aroused by the sounds of getting a man off this way, and she could feel her well-fucked pussy responding to the slurping and licking of her busy mouth. Bound and determined to have him every way she could, there was no chance that she would stop short of the finish line.

Elliot pushed his hands into the mattress desperately and hissed out every cuss he knew, forcing himself not to thrust into her mouth. She swallowed the full length of him, over and over, the sound of it driving him crazy. One hand was still pressed into the base of his cock, holding him steady and brushing against his tightening scrotum.

"Oh God, oh fuck, Liv," he panted, his eyes rolling wildly.

One last time, she pulled away from her work, using her tongue to clean him up in long, slow licks. Then she dropped her mouth onto him and pushed until her nose was an inch or so from his neatly-trimmed groin. At the feel of his cock filling the back of her throat, Elliot came hard, shouting her name as she swallowed the salty heat of him with a satisfied moan.

Pleased with herself, she cleaned him up and then lid alongside him, smiling at the ceiling. When he could, he rolled to his side and pulled her in close to him.

"Pleased with yourself, are you?"

"What do you think?" she teased.

"I think we're only just getting started," he told her, punctuating his point by sliding a hand between her thighs. "Mmm, you are pleased," he chuckled, finding her folds wet and her clit swollen. Elliot kissed her, whispering, "Let me help with that."

_**August 1, 2006 **_

He had forgotten how comforting it was, to wake up somewhere without being alone. The sun was already burning hot when he finally convinced himself to untangle from Liv's arms and sheets, making his way to the kitchen.

"There's a sight I could get used to," Liv grinned, joining him about a half hour later.

The clock was pointing to nearly half past ten. Elliot had one hand around a mug of coffee he'd made, and the other was resting with his fingertips tucked inside the waistband of his underwear that he had pulled back on when he came out.

She crossed to where he stood, gazing out the window in the living rom. Slipping her arms around his waist from behind him, Olivia grinned into the curve of his back. "You made coffee."

"I did."

She tried and failed to remember the last time she had awoken to the smell of coffee or breakfast. El turned in her arms and dipped his head to kiss her. "G'morning. Did you get enough sleep?"

"Is that a shot, Stabler?" She raised an eyebrow and smacked his elbow.

"Not at all!" he protested, "I know you don't work 'til tonight – I can send you back to bed, if you need."

"If you're going to be using bed, and need in the same sentence, then you'd better be coming back to bed with me," Liv murmured.

"How about you have some coffee, and replenish some calories before we burn any more?" he chuckled, nudging her in the direction of the kitchen.

The smile never left her face as Liv poured herself a cup of coffee and slid onto a bar seat. "You work today, though, right?"

"I work every day, now that I managed to send Blaine packing," El nodded. "But Fin is going to cover for me until I get in." He sat beside her on the next stool. "Kathy wants me to get my own place," he told her quietly, "so she and the kids can move back into the house."

She met his gaze. "How do you feel about that, Elliot?"

"I think . . . I been goin' home to that empty house for a long time. Too long, probably. A change will do me good." He looked into his coffee. "The kids could use some familiarity, though – they want to come back to their neighborhood."

"You could always petition One-PP to let you live in the squad," she teased. "Sleep in the crib – I mean, you already drink the coffee for free and keep most of your clothes in your locker."

"Coffee here is better, though," he pointed out. "And, well, the sleeping accommodations are . . . a fair stretch better than the crib."

Liv blushed and smirked into her own mug.

"So what about you?" Elliot asked.

"Hmm?"

"You have time to talk to Cragen before your night shift?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Cragen? What for?"

"About coming back to the unit. It might take a week or so to get the paperwork straightened around."

Olivia caught her breath in surprise, feeling the joy of the morning drain out of her as though through a gaping wound. "El, I - " she put down her cup firmly and closed her eyes, willing herself not to speak out of frustration. "Do you really think me coming back to SVU is the best plan right now? Especially after – " Liv gestured vaguely toward her bedroom. "I can't just come right back, right now! I thought you understood that, last night."

"You told me that SVU is your life," he replied, "that you don't want to have to make the same choice again, between me and the job. How can I protect you if you're not even working with me?"

"It's Computer Crimes, Elliot; I can protect myself. And I _just_ got Cragen to pull the strings to get me there! I can't ask him to just pull me right back!"

He got up, pacing to the middle of the living room, like an echo of Olivia the previous night. "We both know that's not true," he said firmly.

"El, please," she pleaded. She came to meet him, putting a hand on his chest, feeling his heart racing in his frustration. "How can I do my job the way I did, now? You know what you mean to me," she whispered, thinking, _please don't force me to say it now, like this._ "My point last night was that I refuse to lose you. I know that's what you were trying to make me understand in the hallway, after Gitano."

The fluorescent lights, the sound of feet scurrying, they were tattooed behind his eyelids. His breath shook as he drew in a deep breath. He had swore he'd never come that close to losing her again. He might have been a lousy husband . . . a half-rate father, but being Olivia's partner was the one thing that Elliot never had to work to be great at. If he wasn't that anymore, what was he?

Liv tipped her face up to El's, her eyes pleading with him to understand. He kissed her again, gently, not wanting to fight after how much they had let each other in during the night. If the walls went back up now, who knew if they would ever come back down again?


End file.
